


keep the beat and bad company

by lanyon



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: AU, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, anachronistic af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: “I really don’t think that’s what it means, cous,” said Benvolio, looking at the text message again. “I think he actually wants to duel.”“No,” said Romeo with typical confidence. “He’s definitely into me.”Mercutio looked at Benvolio and mouthed oh, honey, no.
Relationships: Romeo Montague/Tybalt
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	keep the beat and bad company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoctorTrekLock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorTrekLock/gifts).



_ ‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? _ ’ 

Not murmured from a balcony, but whispered fiercely on a staircase. 

_ Oh _ , thought Juliet.  _ Oh, that’s quite good _ .

(History is written by the survivors but the survivors love to kill their darlings.)

\--

No one really knew why the Capulets hated the Montagues, or why that hate was returned tenfold, but Juliet always loved to tell the story that united the two families. It was a love story, of course, but it wasn’t the love story that everyone thinks they know. 

  
Romeo and Juliet were not the star-crossed lovers that flirted through fish tanks and swimming pools and balconies. Juliet admitted there was the tantalising possibility, for a moment or two, but he was not her type. 

Romeo, that precious idiot, fell in love often. Well, he didn’t fall, so much as trip, and he truly believed it was love until the day he was swept off his feet entirely. Of course Juliet compared notes with Rosaline, and with all the other girls whose hearts had been mildly dented by Romeo’s uncareful handling. 

“The thing about Romeo,” Juliet said, having leaned over and made sure the tape recorder was working. “The thing about him was that he was in love with the idea of being in love. I don’t think he had a clue how messy it could be.” 

She lit a cigarette and set it in the ashtray, a curl of smoke rising to the ceiling. 

“He was as romantic as they come,” she said. “I’ll give him that. I think he really believed that he loved me and who knows what would have happened if he’d gone on thinking that.” She smiled slowly, her lips curling up. “I doubt it would have been as neat as the stories tell it.” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Yes, I do think it was a very neat ending. Kill off the teenagers and let the adults carry the emotional burden for a change.” She huffed a laugh. “Fridging is an outdated trope. It’s tidy and it’s lazy and it’s really not what happened at all.” 

She was still smiling, but it no longer reached her eyes. “If I tell you how it happened, you must promise faithfully that you will stick to the facts.” 

\--

“Verona is pretty fair,” said Romeo, sipping wine at his table overlooking the Piazze delle Erbe. “I mean. That’s probably an understatement. I think it’s pretty beautiful.” He nodded towards a passing woman. “She’s pretty beautiful too, don’t you think?” He sighed. “Not as beautiful as Rosaline, but who is?”   
  
“Bloody hell, Romeo,” said Benvolio. “Can you, just for a hot second, focus?”

“Right,” said Romeo. “What were we talking about?” 

“The ball,” said Benvolio. “Tonight, at the Capulets’. Technically, we’re not invited but you know Mercutio.” Benvolio smiled in that way of his, that said, oh, he  _ knew _ Mercutio. 

“You know,” said Romeo. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for a ball.” He patted his chest and looked mournfully out over the square again. “My heart is breaking.”   
  
“Are you sure it’s not indigestion?” asked Benvolio, doubtfully. “Look. Mercutio thinks, and I happen to agree, that a ball is exactly what you need to take your mind off Rosaline. And this one even comes with the extra thrill of trying not to get caught being there, because if we are discovered, the Capulets will absolutely hand our asses to us.” 

Romeo closed his eyes and looked even more pained.

  
Benvolio sighed. “Rosaline might be there?”   
  
Romeo’s eyes flew open.

\--

Tybalt was not stupid. He was beginning to think that Romeo was, though. Showing up at a masquerade ball might have worked if he wasn’t so distinctive. It was the way he walked, Tybalt thought. There was a certain arrogance to his slouch, like maybe he wasn’t sure where he was but he was certain he belonged here. 

And Romeo, Tybalt seethed, did not belong here.    
  
He watched him for a while longer, weaving his way between partygoers. Tybalt’s fingers curled by his side. Of course his aunt’s husband had ruled that there were to be no weapons at this ball. A mistake, Tybalt thought, darkly, when clearly anyone could just wander in off the street. Although, he couldn’t argue that some of his older relatives were shaky with their weapons at the best of times, and should probably be trusted with nothing sharper than a fish knife while drunk. 

And there was Romeo, leaning against a pillar, a small smile on his lips, looking like some kind of Roman god. A minor one, of course, who caused minor troubles, and who Tybalt would have no problems beating in a duel. 

He huffed out a breath and then jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Dear cousin,” said a low, sweet voice. “You will burn a hole through that boy’s head with your glare if you are not careful.”

“He shouldn’t be here,” growled Tybalt.    
  
“He’s with Mercutio,” said Juliet. 

“Not a resounding endorsement,” said Tybalt. 

“Oh, I like Mercutio,” said Juliet. “He’s funny.”   
  
Tybalt huffed again. “Stay away from that guy,” he said. “You’re just his type.”   
  
“And what, dear cousin, does that matter, when he is not my type?”   
  
“How can you tell?” asked Tybalt. “He’s wearing a mask.” 

With a quiet laugh, Juliet swept past him and down the stairs. Within minutes, she was talking to Romeo, and Tybalt lurched forward.    
  
“Why I oughta—”

“Stay right where you are, young man.” A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. His aunt’s husband, the host with the most, swaying slightly.    
  
“Uncle,” said Tybalt, as sweetly as he could manage. “Don’t you know who that is?”

His uncle blinked at him.

“It’s Romeo,” he said. “Montague,” he emphasised.

His uncle swiveled on his feet and peered in Romeo’s direction. Romeo had raised a hand and now his palm was pressed to Juliet’s palm and Tybalt didn’t know what he was playing at, but he bet it was nothing good. 

“He’s grown up into quite a fine young man!” said his uncle. 

“Aren’t we supposed to hate him?” asked Tybalt, bewildered. 

“Hatred is exhausting,” said his uncle. “Anyway, he’s not causing any trouble.” He turned back to Tybalt and there was a gleam of clarity in his eyes. “And you’re not going to cause any trouble either. Leave Romeo alone.” His uncle blinked and swayed. “I need another drink.”

Tybalt glared across the room at Romeo, who was laughing with Juliet, and he quietly seethed. 

\--

“Romeo,” said Juliet, sitting cross-legged on the altar steps. “I am not your type.” 

“But you are,” said Romeo, mournfully. “I’d marry you today. I’d marry you now!”

Juliet’s nurse quietly face-palmed into her handbag while the Friar watched with interest. A marriage between the Montagues and Capulets would certainly be one way to bring the families together.

“No,” said the nurse.    
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
“No, I know what you’re thinking, and absolutely not. Juliet is promised to Paris which, honestly, she could take or leave, but you’re not putting the unification of the two most dysfunctional families ever seen in Verona on her shoulders.” 

The Friar thought about this, and nodded. “She’s very young for marriage, anyway.” 

“In any case,” said Juliet to Romeo. “My cousin would kill you if you married me.” 

  
Romeo frowned. “He must be very protective of you.” 

Juliet laughed and her laughter was honestly like beautiful peals of a church bell. “You’re an idiot,” she said, fondly. “It’s not me he’s protective of.”

Romeo blinked again. “Oh,” he said. “ _ Oh _ .” 

He sat back, leaning against the communion rails. “Really?” 

Juliet nodded. “Really.”

\--

“I really don’t think that’s what it means, cous,” said Benvolio, looking at the text message again. “I think he actually wants to duel.”

“No,” said Romeo with typical confidence. “He’s definitely into me.”

Mercutio looked at Benvolio and mouthed  _ oh, honey, no.  _

\--

Mercutio got there before Romeo, in an attempt to figure out Tybalt’s mood. As always, Tybalt was irascible and maybe a little more nervy than usual. 

“Have you ever thought about cutting down on your caffeine intake?” he asked. 

“You,” said Tybalt. “You hang out with Romeo.”   
  
“Mmhmm.” Mercutio’s eyes darted to the left and then darted to the right. 

“He, ah, ever mention me?”

“Oh god,” breathed Mercutio. “Seriously, where art thou, Romeo?” 

By the time Romeo arrived, Mercutio was clutching his chest.

“Shit,” said Romeo. “Are you hurt?” 

“Only in the soul,” said Mercutio. “I’ve honestly had about enough of both of you. Sort your shit out, both of you.”    
  
Bewildered, Romeo watched as Mercutio fell dramatically into Benvolio’s arms. Then, he turned towards Tybalt, who was watching him through narrowed eyes. 

“Romeo,” hissed Tybalt. “The love I bear thee can afford no better term than this: thou art a villain.”

Romeo tugged at his collar. Maybe he had read this wrong. “Ha, that seems a little strong. All I did was attend a party I wasn’t invited to. That’s not a crime.”   
  
Tybalt blinked at him. “You were trespassing. That is literally a crime. To say nothing of the way you were looking at Juliet.”   
  
Romeo snorted. “Don’t worry,” he said. “She, uh, set me straight.” He winced. “So to speak.” 

He was deeply aware that they were being watched, by Mercutio, by Benvolio, and by random bystanders. “Hey, so, it’s really hot out here and everyone’s looking at us. You want to get out of here? Maybe get a drink?” 

Tybalt’s hand rested briefly on the hilt of his sword. He licked his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth briefly. The bluster that surrounded him seemed to dissipate, even as the clouds rolled thunderous and dense overhead. “Actually,” he said. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He smiled and it was like a beam of sunshine, or a bolt of lightning. 

Romeo didn’t mind admitting that he was shook by Tybalt’s smile, and a little proud, perhaps, that he had won this victory.

\--

“So,” said Juliet. “You see? It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as all that. No poison, no mixed messages.” She shook out her hair. “I know. Decades of rivalry and hatred just fizzled out because two boys stopped squabbling long enough to kiss.” 

She crossed her legs and straightened her skirt. “Now, I hope you’ll stick to our agreement. What? No, I didn’t marry Paris. No, I’m not telling you anything else. You have the whole story.”

She stood up and walked out of the room. The ashes of her cigarette were still hot in the ashtray. As soon as she stepped outside, she shook her head. 

“He’s going to kill me off, isn’t he?” she asked herself before she walked across the lot to the waiting car. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide! This prompt was too much fun and I hope I did it some justice.  
> Thanks to the usual crew for the motivation.  
> Title from Dire Straits (of course).


End file.
